


Average Job

by VampirePaladin



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural, Gen, Undead, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-17
Updated: 2012-12-17
Packaged: 2017-11-21 09:32:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/596191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampirePaladin/pseuds/VampirePaladin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred, Gilbert and Ingolf on an average night, doing an average job.  Rescuing a girl captured by a well-known local vampire is of course an average job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Average Job

Pahonia was their base of operations. It was a bar that was centrally located, was easily defendable and had multiple escape routes. More importantly, it was the only bar within a fifty mile radius that had not banned them from the property altogether.

It was a dimly lit place. It had the standard assortment of dark brown tables and chairs and a bar that had stood the abuse of customers for years. The walls had posters of various rock bands. Some of them had even played here on the small stage along the back wall.

Behind the bar was the owner of the establishment. She was a beautiful young woman whose looks were marred by the severe scowl she often seemed to wear. A ribbon helped keep the majority of her pale hair back. Her sturdy, dark dress was old fashioned but it seemed to suit her.

She gave the clean bar another wipe with the beige colored rag. She glanced up at the hands of the clock one the far wall. It was 5:13 PM. They would be here soon. The young woman headed back into the kitchen. A flick of a switch and the deep fryer was turned on. As the oil heated she began cutting up potatoes into the typical French fry cut. She fancied herself somewhat of an expert on potato based dishes, even if the dish was just French fries.

At 6:07 PM on the dot the front door opened. In came three men. All three talked as if they were a TV with its volume permanently set at obnoxious. Their table that they always sat at was right in the middle of the establishment. When they each sat in their chairs they collectively could watch the entire business at the same time. Their table already had a fresh batch of French fries, a pitcher of beer and a pitcher of Coca-Cola sitting there, waiting for them. They did not need an invitation as they descended on the table like a starving horde of wolves.

The three men had the pitchers almost empty and the fries were completely gone approximately seven minutes after they sat down. The owner crossed the floor over to them with a large, brown tray filled with more food and drinks. She set down a basket of fried chicken, a second basket of French fries and two more pitchers.

“Thanks, Natty,” Alfred said.

“Don’t call me that,” she said automatically as she glared at him. If it were not for the fact that these three single handedly kept her in business she would have wiped her hands of them years ago.

Gilbert expressed his thanks with an indistinct sound in between large gulps of beer.

Ingolf was already refilling his glass again. 

Natalia mostly stayed back at her bar. She would serve the few other customers that came in. She only went to the table with the trio of men when the food or the pitchers threatened to be empty. It took an hour before they started to slow down. It was another thirty minutes after that before they were leaning back, sipping at their drinks and occasionally picking at a fry or piece of chicken that had escaped the feeding frenzy.

Natalia dropped a single envelop on the table between Ingolf and Gilbert. The Danish man got to the black envelop first. He opened it with care that someone who had seen him eating would not expect at all. His blue eyes scanned back and forth. There was a large grin on his face.

“We have a job to do.”

 

The letter had been from Francis Bonnefoy, a rich Frenchman. His adopted daughter had been kidnapped. Due to his close friendship with the infamous mage Arthur Kirkland he recognized that it had been a supernatural abduction. With help from Arthur they had ruled that it had been a vampire that had abducted Michelle. That led to him sending a letter to the famous trio of vampire hunters through the Mage’s Society, of which Natalia was a member. There was only one vampire in the area that could be responsible for this. It looked like it would be time for a special visit.

The three silently moved through the forest, around trees and over roots. The bushes seemed to reach away from them, as if fearful of grasping onto their clothing. Gilbert led the way. The darkness meant little to the eyes of a half demon. Alfred was in the back, an immortal undead, it meant that if someone was going to be attacked from behind that it should be him. Ingolf was a normal seeming human who just happened to have one of the most intimidating axes that most people had ever seen.

It was a chilly night. Gilbert had his hood up. Alfred was rather unaffected in his orange coat, but he would have been fine at any temperature. Ingolf had every button on his black, wool coat buttoned.

The owls going silent was the only warning that the three had. They burst from the ground, tossing stagnant earth high into the branches above. They hulked and skulked, back bent doubled from muscles being too lose, too tight or not even being there. They reeked of death with a side order of overcooked fries.

“Frikken awesome,” Gilbert yelled out, brandishing his pitchfork.

Alfred’s chainsaw began to sing as it was brought to life. Ingolf’s axe glinted in the oppressive dark. The creeping chaos of the mindless undead closed in on the three men. 

One grabbed for Ingolf with a hand like a dead tree’s branch. The heavy axe descended on its elbow, severing it completely. Ingolf pulled the axe back up and brought it down again, this time on the creature’s head. It stopped moving when its head was split open like a melon, spilling its contents out everywhere. Ingolf swung his axe in a wide semi-circle, devastating the bodies of the monsters around him.

Gilbert ran toward the nearest one, his pitchfork was leading the way. He stabbed one high, impaling it through the eyes, accidentally lifting it up in the air. He shook his weapon, trying to dislodge the now still undead. It would not come off. He frowned in annoyance, and that soon turned into a huge grin that threatened to consume his entire face. He swung his pitchfork, undead corpse still on it, and hit another one of the attackers. He laughed like this was some private joke as he began to beat the one undead with the body of the other at the end of his weapon.

Alfred reached up and pulled the old fashioned hockey mask down over his face. His chainsaw kept singing its mechanical song as he brought it through the torso of one undead. Even though Alfred was himself undead he felt no pity for killing the mindless undead attacking them. Blood splattered everywhere, getting on his coat. His way of fighting was by far the messiest. He used his considerable strength to use his chainsaw almost as if it were a sword, parrying the outstretched hands with his chainsaw. Soon there was a pile of limbs around him.

Mindless undead really was not a big deal for these three. Even in the considerable numbers that they were now in, It was only a minor annoyance. However, what they were successfully doing was keeping the three men distracted. It was not until every one of the undead attackers were lying dead on the ground that they heard the loud footsteps coming toward them through the forest. Breaking through the forest was a large, humanoid golem. It shoved trees aside like they were bushes and bushes like they were tissue paper.

“That guy is huge!” Ingolf yelled.

“You guys go on ahead. I’ll keep him busy,” Alfred yelled as he revved his chainsaw.

“Got it,” Gilbert called over his shoulder.

“Have fun,” Ingolf added as the two ran.

Together they ran through the woods and to the vampire’s hideout.

 

“Come on, say I am a real vampire,” the little boy pouted with a stomp of his foot.

“Again?” Michelle sighed.

“I am the great Peter Kirkland, the greatest of the great of vampires!”

“You barely count as undead. Don’t even get me started on whether or not you are a vampire.”

“I kidnapped you. Only a true vampire could capture a beautiful girl like you.”

“Crying until I felt sorry for you doesn’t count as capturing me,” Michelle said. She was sitting on the wooden floor of the tree house.

“Okay, play time is over,” Ingolf said as he climbed up the ladder and entered the tree house.

“But I need to make her my immortal bride!”

“Peter, your uncle is going to beat your ass if you don’t let Michelle go,” Gilbert yelled from further down the ladder.

“Awww, but do I have to?” Peter whined.

“Yes,” two male voices and one female voice said.

Peter started to sniffle. Big tears gathered in his eyes.

“Aww, it is okay,” Michelle smiled at him. “I’ll come play with you again some other time.”

“Really? Promise?”

“I do.”

“Come on, it is time to go home.” Ingolf gently herded the little boy and the teenager out of the tree house.

The group headed back to where Alfred was finished dismembering the golem. Peter was not happy that all of his toys had been destroyed, but he was not getting any sympathy in that department. 

 

The three men returned to the Pahonia after taking both Michelle and Peter back to their respective homes. This time they only had drinks.

“Maybe next time it will be a REAL job,” Gilbert said as he downed his beer.

“Hey, dealing with supernaturally powered children is a real job,” Ingolf insisted.

“Yeah, but it isn’t as cool as when we get to do stuff like slay dragons and bring down dark cults,” Alfred spoke almost into his soda glass.

“Yeah, well at least we got paid a lot of money,” Ingolf said as he counted out the paper money.

“Your bill,” Natalia said with a scowl as she set down the piece of paper and held out her hand.

Ingolf took one look at all the food and drinks they had consumed earlier in the night and how much the total cost was. He sighed and put all the money they had made into the cutthroat woman’s hand.

He was putting the three of them on a diet. This was the third time this week.


End file.
